“If that stuff will corrode a cylinder wall it’ll corrode wire,” said Tom, after a few moments’ silence. “It might take a few days, but after that you could break the wire with your fingers. It wouldn’t make any noise. That ain’t what I wanted to ask you about—’cause I know about that. The thing is, are you with me? You got to judge for yourself, ’cause it’s risky.”
Archer hit him a rap on the shoulder, then put his arm in friendly fashion about his neck.
“Slady, I’m with you strong as mustarrd,” said he; “did I tell you ’bout the feller I met in France that escaped from Siberia——”
“And keep your mouth shut,” said Tom. “First we got to fix the engine.”
CHAPTER XXVII
HE PLANS A DESPERATE GAME AND DOES A GOOD JOB
Archer was thoroughly game, Tom knew that, but he did not want to involve him in his own peril unless his friend fully realized what it meant. With himself, as he had said, it was different. But he might have saved himself any worry about his friend. Archer was not only game; he was delighted.
Needless to say, they slept little that night. In the morning they were given a wrench with which they removed the cylinder head amid the gibes of a group of spectators. And there, sure enough, after the piston was disconnected and removed, they found a little, thin crack in the inner cylinder wall.